Quicksilver by Judith Reeves-Stevens & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

Author:Judith Reeves-Stevens & Garfield Reeves-Stevens [Reeves-Stevens, Judith & Reeves-Stevens, Garfield]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: eBook, Fixed, Thriller
ISBN: 9780671028541
Amazon: 0671028545
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 1998-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Eleven

E RING, RIVER WEDGE

Amy flexed her hands. They felt steady, betraying not the slightest visible sign of motion.

She thought again of seeing the enemy in the uniforms of her murdered company, of being forced to surrender her weapon, of being bound, pawed, kicked, and clubbed…all of it.

Once again she grabbed the gun, fired at the enemy, saw them fall because of her. Once again she felt the easy resistance of the enemy’s flesh as she drew the blade of her Leatherman under his jaw.

The last moment, when the Russian commander had dared raise her weapon again, in defiance of her defeat. When, without thinking, Amy had snapped her Leatherman into a throwing X, just as her father had taught her, and had willed it into the enemy’s throat. With no conscious recollection of having taken time to aim.

Then Tom Chase said, “Almost got it,” and she was back with him, in a small conference room, decorated with framed front pages of newspapers from the First Gulf War. The room was close to the turn in the ground-level corridor where they had found the blast door and the hostages and the Russians. Chase had used his proxcard to seal the corridor before he, Amy, and the five civilian hostages they had untied and ungagged pulled the three slain Russians into an office and locked them inside. If more of the enemy came looking for their comrades, they would find the blood in the E Ring hallway. But without the bodies, it would be impossible to know what had happened. Or so Amy knew Chase hoped.

Once untied, the five hostages did as they were told. Two of them, the oldest man and the thin woman in the flowered dress, were married, Polish, and spoke only halting English. The other three hostages, all men, in their early to late forties, were Americans. One of them described to her, incredulously, how he had been standing right beside Secretary of Defense Nicholas Guilbert when someone dressed as a midshipman had stepped up to the Secretary and shot him in the chest at point-blank range. Some of the assassin’s bullets had ricocheted off the wall behind, piercing the man’s arm. The other two men had avoided even looking at Amy, preferring to address any questions to Chase. Their attitude had made it easier for her to command their attention when she’d needed it.

Amy had immediately tended to some crude first aid to clean up the hostages’ minor scrapes, mostly using strips of cloth from the upholstered chair-seats as bandages. Only the man with the bullet creases on his arm was in need of serious medical attention, but he could probably hold out for a few days before infection became a real worry. Her tooth was another matter. However, trial and error quickly told her that as long as she didn’t move her jaw too much, the pain retreated to a dismal nuisance, not a dangerous distraction. Eventually she’d find aspirin somewhere in the Pentagon, even if she had to search every drawer in every office they passed.

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